


Preying on the Predator

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Drugged Sex, Needles, Nipple Torture, Other, Tentacle Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam really should know better than to let his guard down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preying on the Predator

There’s no warning aside from a small splash before Sam is being hoisted into the air by the ankle. He slashes around with the machete in his hand, but the creature is holding him far enough away from itself that Sam can’t possibly reach. He scrambles for matches or a lighter, but as he manages to spark a flame, the creature dunks him in the water once. Twice. Three times, and he comes up spluttering, lighter and machete gone from his grip, splashing into the water below.

 

Slimy appendages push beneath Sam’s clothes, winding around his limbs under the fabric. They yank outward simultaneously, and the air is filled with the pops and rips of shredded clothing. Startled by the violent movement and his own sudden nakedness, Sam flails, struggling to get loose even if it means falling into the lake. In seconds, those long tentacles have rewrapped themselves around his body. Squeezing to the point of pain, they relax only when Sam does. Their message is loud and clear: don’t fight and you won’t get hurt.

 

Much.

 

A lone, thin tentacle reaches up to stroke his lips, painting them with the clear ooze the thing seems to be covered in. It tingles warmly, a bizarre sensation on the tender skin of his mouth, and Sam has to fight the urge to lick the stuff away. As if it can sense his hesitance, the tentacle prods more firmly, pushing at his mouth with steady pressure until it manages to shove just enough of itself between his lips to snake along his teeth, smearing the substance over his gums. Sam tries to spit, wrenching his face away, but another tentacle clamps down tight over his mouth and nose.

 

Swallow or suffocate. This creature is smarter than they’d been giving it credit for. Swallowing with a grimace, Sam spares a moment to wonder where Dean is and what kind of state his brother will find him in. Heat floods through him, washing those thoughts away as his head starts to spin and his limbs grow heavy.

 

Anesthetic, he thinks muzzly. It drugged me.

 

The creature takes advantage of his now-slack mouth, pushing the tentacle wedged along his gums further in and pouring more thick liquid into him. This time it’s different, sickly sweet and Sam finds himself craving it when the flow stops. Blushing, he’s horrified to find he’s sucking on the tentacle, but it pulls out the moment he stops, giving him what almost feels like a condescending pat on the cheek.

 

Drowsily, Sam squints around, but he’s not able to see much of the creature beyond the appendages that have him bound. Pain lances through him, startling a yelp from his mouth. Two  tentacles have attached themselves to his nipples, and it feels as though tiny needles have been shoved into the  flesh surrounding them. His suspicion is confirmed when the burn of liquid being forced under his skin makes him groan, but even that gets dulled by strange, tingling pleasure.

He’s being prepped, slowly but surely, and it’s not difficult to guess for what. Another tendril creeps up his thigh, coating the skin in slime until it’s swiping against his perineum and nudging between his cheeks. It slicks his hole with the same stuff it had his lips, the prickle making his hole clench and twitch until its soothed with more slime. The tip of the tentacle is thin, odd but not painful as it pushes in without further hesitation. It’s cooler temperature means Sam can feel it sliding all along his hotter insides. Once the thing is in deep, he can feel cool liquid filling him, lubing him up, and he’d be freaking out if he weren’t so fucking lethargic.

 

Slime trickles down his thigh when it pulls out, and another, thicker limb is already shoving its way in. Pain should be a thing, Sam figures, but the slime is numbing him. It has to be. Instead, he’s left with a stretching sensation, sparks of pleasure when it presses and rubs along his prostate.

 

It feels good.

 

Sam’s also sure he shouldn’t be able to take as much of the length that’s now fucking him as he is but there’s nothing he can do. Pulling out and pushing back in, the tentacle starts up a good rhythm, keeping steady pressure on his sweet spot as it moves. It thickens gradually until the stretch is painful; he’s going to be gaping when this is over. If . . . he survives to see it be over.

 

More thin tentacles circle his cock and balls, squeezing and stroking firmly. Combined with the ever-faster thrusts in his ass, Sam’s not far from coming. The closer he gets, the more he can move and he’s tempted to fight, one more last resistance before the tentacle creature fucks him to death. Every appendage wrapped around him tightens the moment he stiffens, and Sam forces himself to relax. The thing could easily crush him, now.

 

Sucking starts at his nipples, on the tip of his cock, and the feeling of those little needles shoving into the spongy head of his dick makes him scream - and the following rush of heady pleasure makes him come. The sucking sensation and the thrusting in his ass continues, body oversensitized but coming again and again until Sam can only scream his pleas, coming dry as painful orgasms rush through him.

 

Finally, fucking finally, all of the tentacles stop moving, slipping away from his nipples and cock, leaving only the one in his ass behind. He’s sure it intends to keep him there, spitted on it until  he can come again. There isn’t an inch of him that doesn’t ache and he wonders if it would understand if he asked for it to numb him again.

 

Sam drifts off at some point, wakes to the god awful smell of burning flesh and a horrible shrieking sound. The tentacles around his limbs have gone painfully tight, and he’s sure he’ll be crushed until a shot rings out and they go slack all at once. He’s left to tumble into the cold, dark water, tangled in now-dead limbs and fumbling tiredly for the surface. Strong hands grab at him, yanking him up and hauling him into a tiny boat.

 

“D-Dean,” he coughs, spitting out water.

 

“Fuck, Sammy, fuck I thought - Jesus, kid come here.” Dean yanks him into his arms, wrapping him up tightly.

 

“Dean I, it- it-”

 

“Shh, Sam. I know, I.” Dean’s voice sounds pained. “Are you hurt?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sam whispers, burying his face in his big brother’s chest. “I don’t know.”

 

Dean holds him for a while longer, until Sam starts shivering from cold. He maneuvers the boat around the already dissolving carcass of the monster, quickly bundling Sam into the Impala, which is, thankfully, parked at the end of the dock. He hauls blankets out of the back and turns the heat on high blast. Sam’s grateful when Dean yanks him up against his side, wrapping an arm around him as he spins out on the gravel, tearing away from the lake and back toward their hotel.

 

 


End file.
